


Tech Week

by hypersilver



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, High School AU, M/M, Punk AU, btw all the tech week stuff in this? literally pulled straight from my own experiences, every theatre kid's worst nightmare: a tech week that goes wrong, god the things we do for theatre, he's just stressed okay he's doing his best, lots of terrible punny attempts at name-calling, punk!deceit, rated for language, roman's just a dramatic boy, the horrors of tech week, y'all are gay just kiss already damn, you know how it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21857245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypersilver/pseuds/hypersilver
Summary: Roman Buonarroti finds himself dealing with a bit more than the usual stressors of theatre tech week, and on top of that, local menace Ethan James promises an appearance at the closing night show. Expecting only trouble, Roman learns that Ethan is more than leather jackets and lip piercings.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit Sanders
Comments: 12
Kudos: 57
Collections: Sanders Sides Secret Santa 2019





	Tech Week

Tech week is hardly ever anything a theatre kid looks forward to--that is, unless they’re either a masochist or simply new to the art of stage acting. Rehearsals pushing through the late-night, last-minute blocking changes, endless standing around on stage while the director and crew run light cues, living on pasta and energy drinks, struggling to get homework done in the dark between scenes, questioning your own passion for theatre as you run the same half of a scene for the twentieth time in a row because there’s just that _one_ little thing one of your castmates can’t quite nail and your director thinks everyone should suffer for a single person’s mistakes…

You know, the usual stuff.

It’s hell, hence the nickname _“hell week,”_ though everyone tends to share the common understanding that it’ll all pay off come opening night, and once it’s over, they’ll all be sitting around the living room of someone’s house at the closing cast party crying over how much they’ll miss it. So goes the cycle of theatre, and Roman would never trade it for a thing in the world.

Everyone has that thing that provides them comfort and familiarity and, above all, sanity in the midst of the chaos and anxiety that high school breeds. For some, like Roman’s best friend, Logan, it’s _actually_ studying during study hall and willingly staying after school to make and hang up student body president campaign posters. For others, like Roman’s twin brother, Remus, and his other delinquent friends, it’s skipping classes to fill the bathrooms with smoke and keeping the whole damn block awake with incessant noise-- _sorry_ , music. For Roman, it’s creating beauty in motion on a stage and performing for a cheering crowd, even if it means ignoring homework or sleep.

Which is why the sacred process of theatre, even the hells of tech week, should not be tampered with by outside forces. And _yet_ ...the universe has still decided that, no, an ill co-lead and a director taking out her post-breakup anguish on the cast and a missing bottle of foundation and a costume stained with paint from the set are all _not_ enough to stress Roman out to high heaven. No, no, of course there needs to be _more_ . Of course, on top of all of that, he still needs to deal with _him_.

“Wow, Roman, you don’t look like shit at all.”

And he’d almost made it across the auditorium parking lot unscathed. With a deep sigh, Roman stops and spins around slowly on his heels to face Mr. Fingerless Gloves and Face Piercings leaned up against a light post with a smirk tugging at one corner of his lips. Ethan. One of the aforementioned friends of Roman’s brother, here to harass him on Remus’ behalf, no doubt. “What do you want, Gossip _Hurl_?” In spite of his frustration, Roman mentally high-fives himself for such an ace insulting nickname. Even while exhausted after eight hours of rehearsal, he’s still got it.

The tall blonde--fake blonde, mind you--rolls his eyes, yet maintains that stupid smirk. “Name-calling. How mature. How clever,” he scoffs.

“Better than you could come up with.” Roman knows he should be getting home, but walking away could make him look weak, and he would never risk that.

“Oh, really, Disney Dunce?”

“That’s right, Snake Blight.”

“Highly doubt it, Curtain Gall.”

“Quit lying to yourself, Ripped Genius.”

“Aw, you called me ripped and a genius.”

Roman folds his arms, huffing softly. “Hardly. It was a sarcastic name referring to your tacky ripped jeans, you...you…” His gaze wanders about the parking lot as if a nearby car or tree would inspire him with a new nickname. Just before the moment of silence becomes too suffocating, Roman’s eyes snap back to Ethan. “Wait, you still didn’t answer my question. What do you want? What are you doing out here at this hour? You do realize they installed new security cameras out here after you and my brother vandalized three cars last month, right? You’ll just have to find some other needlessly edgy activity to occupy yourself with at eleven o’clock at night.”

“Vandalized cars?” Ethan chuckles under his breath and absentmindedly casts his eyes down to his painted nails. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. For all you know, that was the work of a few ballsy freshmen with nothing better to do. I’m _far_ too sophisticated for something as low as vandalism on school grounds.”

Roman cocks an eyebrow. Maybe he should just walk away. He certainly is above partaking in such silly back-and-forth. Or rather, he thinks he is.

“Anyway,” Ethan continues, letting his hand drop by his side, “I just happened to be heading home after my own...extracurricular activity when I saw you leaving at such an aggravated pace and decided I’d have a nice, friendly conversation with my best friend’s brother. Innocent enough.”

The brunette slides his hands in his jacket pockets and nods slowly. “Uh-huh. Was that activity stealing math quiz answers?”

“History test answers, for your information.”

“Ah, how dare I spout such a false accusation.” Roman glances down at his phone to check the time. “Listen, Punk Cock, is the ‘friendly’ part of this ‘friendly conversation’ going to happen anytime soon?” He turns and begins heading for his car again as he continues to talk, not expecting Ethan to actually let him go. “Because I’ve had a long day, and I’d very much like to get some beauty sleep before I have to do it all over again tomorrow.”

Indeed, Ethan follows Roman a few meters further across the parking lot, amusement still written on his grinning face. “Aw, what’s wrong, Roman? Trouble in paradise? Drama club not treating you well this year?”

Roman stops at the driver’s side door, fingers curling around the handle. “No, it’s all _fine_. Tech week just...takes a lot. Nothing I can’t handle. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He tugs on the door and slides in behind the wheel.

“Your show opens this Friday, right?”

Just about ready to slam the door shut, Roman pauses. “...Yeah? Why do you care?”

Ethan rests one arm on top of the car and moves close to Roman. “Just wondering how long I’ve got to figure out how to mess with it.” He laughs and stands straight again, taking a step back and leaning on the car parked adjacent to Roman’s. “Enjoy your beauty sleep, Royal Pain. You look like you’ll need it,” he adds with a wink before shuffling off.

Roman sinks back in his seat, drawing in a long breath before noisily exhaling past parted lips. It’s only now, with a moment to himself away from rehearsal and away from Ethan that he realizes just how tired he is. He shudders at the thought that he still has homework to finish before heading to bed tonight. Maybe he could get it done during lunchtime before class tomorrow? But then he’d be skipping out on food, and he doesn’t get a break for dinner at tech rehearsal until seven. Should he just forget about the homework entirely? It is just statistics, after all, and it’s not like he’d get a very high grade if he did it regardless. Yeah, he’ll just hand it in another day. He can’t afford breaking out, getting dark eye circles, or catching some illness due to a lack of sleep when he’s got a show in two days. Roman runs a hand through his hair, sighs, and yawns.

Roman sleeps well that night. A little _too_ well, really, and by the time he wakes up, the time on his phone tells him it’s seven minutes into second period. Panic immediately shocks him to his feet. He stumbles around his laundry basket and dresser as he pulls his boxers off and heads towards the bathroom, where he squeezes a line of toothpaste onto a toothbrush and jumps into the shower with it. He curses his brother under his breath when he feels clipped toenails under his feet on the shower floor--who the _hell_ cuts their toenails in the _shower_?!--but forces himself to brush the icky feeling off in order to focus on getting ready as quickly as possible.

Nine minutes later, he’s out the door and in his car with a bagel in hand. Thank god his brother doesn’t rely on him for getting to school--well, really, it’s Roman who doesn’t trust him in his car, but same difference. Roman plugs his phone into the USB before backing out of the driveway. Surely showtunes will help calm him down, yes?

But showtunes only remind him of theatre. Which only reminds him of the show. Which only reminds him of tech week. Don’t get him wrong, tech week is never something that gets to him too much. It’s just that this time around, all the wrong things seem to be happening at the same time, and it’s just catching him off guard, is all. But no matter, so long as Roman sucks it up and keeps going until it’s over, it’ll all be fine.

He arrives at second-period physics with twenty minutes to spare, much to the frustration of his teacher. “Mr. Buonarroti, you’re late. Join a lab group and see me after class,” she deadpans from behind her desk.

Pressing his lips together, Roman nods and turns to scan the bustling room for his friends. He spots them towards the other end when Patton kneels on a chair and waves him over, and mechanically begins to walk over. He pretends not to see Ethan smirk at him as he passes his lab table.

“You alright, Ro? I’ve been texting you all morning!” Patton says while Logan slides a few lab instruction and procedure pages over.

Roman looks down at the pages and skims the text, hardly taking the care to process the words in front of him as he does so. “Yeah, yeah, of course. I’m fine. Sorry, I was in a bit of a rush this morning. I haven’t had time to look at my phone yet.” He slides the pages back over to Logan, who raises his eyebrows at him, but doesn’t say anything. Roman flashes a smile at both of his friends.

“I’m assuming you overslept after staying up late to complete the homework you couldn’t work on during rehearsal?” Logan says.

Roman gives a sheepish chuckle. “Overslept, yes. Homework, no.” This earns a sigh from Logan, though it’s nothing he’s not used to already.

Patton reaches up to place a gentle hand on Roman’s shoulder, eyes soft. “You know it’s fine to admit that things are a bit overwhelming, right? Maybe we could even help you manage some stuff.”

He shakes his head, nudging Patton’s tanned hand off of him. “Come on, guys, you know me. Tech week is a beast I’ve conquered again and again. Everything’s fine, I swear.”

The rest of the school day goes by without another conflict, besides a bit more persistent questioning of his sanity from Patton and Logan during lunch, and Roman almost convinces himself that maybe tech rehearsal today won’t be so bad. Three o’clock comes around and it begins alright, more or less, as the director instructs the cast to get into costume, hair, and makeup for full dress and tech. There are a couple of cast members still out sick, but that’s nothing understudies can’t fix. The director seems to have pulled herself together after her apparent breakup, seeing as she no longer is berating innocent cast members for minor stumbles on stage. Roman’s father brings him the makeup bag he’d left at home, complete with a new bottle of foundation so he doesn’t need to worry about his face looking odd with some off-color tone borrowed from a castmate. A member of the stage crew, Virgil, was able to get the paint off of Roman’s costume overnight, so there’s no need to scramble to find any new pieces. Whatever was going wrong before seems to have passed.

But then comes a new set of troubles. The light and sound cues are all off because most of the tech and stage crew are out sick, leaving Virgil to work on cues alone while the stage manager and assistant director handle set pieces and props. The director decides to last-minute change some choreography in the opening number that half the ensemble still can’t seem to get down properly. The understudy for Roman’s co-lead isn’t completely off-book. By the end of the night, Roman’s sweaty, shaky, and exhausted. Though, after hours of repeated run-throughs and touch-ups, he at the very least is confident that tomorrow’s opening night has the potential to not be a failure. And that’s what makes all this stress worth it. A good show. As long as he works hard and makes everything count now, it’ll all turn out great. He can worry about resting later.

“Damn, you look even _better_ than you did yesterday, Roman.”

Roman doesn’t stop to entertain Ethan this time, opting to maintain his stride over to his car. He can’t help but allow his eyes to flicker over his shoulder once he gets to the door, and he only disappoints himself when he sees that Ethan is right on his heels, calling out to him.

“Wait! I’ve got something to show you,” Ethan tells him, jogging to a stop. He extends a tattooed arm out towards Roman, who by now has hopped into the driver’s seat of his car, to show him his phone screen.

He squints at the screen and watches the QR code for a closing night show ticket come into focus. Roman pulls back into his seat and looks at Ethan. “If you were anyone else, I’d think you’re coming to witness my breathtaking acting skills and gawk at my handsome face lit by a couple dozen stage lights, but...you’re you. You’ll be there to do all that and then some, I’m guessing.”

“Well...that’s not wrong,” Ethan muses, looking off into space for a moment before looking back at Roman. “Nothing to worry about, though. Trust me.”

Roman laughs. “I feel inclined not to, Phantom of the...Drama.”

Ethan pockets his phone and buries his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Better brush up on your nicknames before I see you Saturday night. And I’ll wear my good ripped jeans, just for you.” Before Roman can come up with a retort, Ethan’s gone without another word.

Opening night goes well--a nearly-full house, the director in good spirits, and only one small hiccup with a missed sound cue. Roman is the first cast member to change out of costume and go out to greet audience members outside of the auditorium. Patton tackle-hugs him before he takes more than four steps past the double-doors, rambling about how wonderful he and the rest of the cast and crew were while Logan smiles and nods in agreement beside him. Roman gladly takes pictures, talks to other audience members (mostly classmates from school and family of the cast), and even signs programs for a couple of younger kids and a clearly-love-stricken group of girls from a grade below him. Once everyone’s filtered out, he returns to the dressing room to clean off his makeup, grab his things, and go home for the first _real_ good night’s sleep all week.

The Saturday matinee is, more or less, the same as opening night, though with a smaller and noticeably older audience. But this is typical of high school matinees, as Roman and the other cast and crew members know very well. Really, no one but parents and old people has the time to watch a musical production put on by teenagers on a Saturday afternoon. Regardless, the show goes fairly well, and Roman again goes out to greet audience members afterward. Patton and Logan are there once more, always eager to offer their best friend unending support, as he’d do for them. He goes out for a late lunch with them before coming back to do it all one last time.

The closing show should have been the best one--to go out with a bang, as they say. And it is, truly, the best one. That’s what the director and crew rave when the cast bursts into the dressing room after final bows, that’s what Patton texts as Roman glances at his phone while dressing into normal clothes and blotting a bit of sweat from his hairline, and that’s what his castmates insist as they all once again prepare to say hi to everyone waiting outside.

But Roman doesn’t think so. He _fucked up_. In one song, just before intermission, he’d switched some of the lyrics of two verses by accident. At the time, he kept going with a smile, and he even decided to forget about it during the 15-minute break they got between acts. But then the end of the show came, and that was it. The crowd was cheering, but he didn’t deserve it. His peers pat him on the back for a great leading performance, but it was far from acceptable. It wasn’t that bad, they tell him. No one noticed, they claim. Even if they did, it’s not like they’ll remember it, they assure him.

It was bad. People could have noticed. Some surely will remember.

And so Roman doesn’t leave the dressing room to greet people outside, and he ignores the texts he receives from his friends and his father, and he doesn’t go to help everyone else strike the set once the crowd outside leaves.

Not long after most of the cast and crew have left to meet at the stage manager’s house for the cast party, Roman finds himself sitting alone in the dressing room with his knees hugged to his chest. He only cleaned off half his makeup before he decided he couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror for another second longer, and what’s left is smudged and dripping down his cheeks. He doesn’t move at the sound of someone opening the door and walking in, but mumbles, “I’ll be at the party in a bit, I promise.”

“You’re not going looking like _that_ , are you?”

Roman’s eyes widen at the voice. Breath hitching in his throat, he looks up to see Ethan standing in front of the doorway. The taller boy’s lips curl into a bit of a smile--a warm, inviting one in place of his usual smug smirk. He’s got his usual leather jacket on, but he’s also wearing jeans completely lacking rips and tears and paint splatters, and he’s taken out most of his piercings save for the snake bites beneath his lower lip. In his hands, he carries a large bouquet of red and yellow roses wrapped in white and silver paper and tied off with a glittery silver ribbon.

He watches Ethan cross the room and pull up a chair beside him, sitting backwards to straddle the backrest. He holds the bouquet out in front of him. Roman can’t do more than stare, and so Ethan simply shrugs and sets the flowers down carefully on a nearby table. “What’s that face for? Didn’t think I’d come? You underestimate me, Cryin’ King.”

Roman grabs a makeup wipe from his bag of cosmetics and attempts to quickly get rid of the mess on his face with it. “I just--you look--the flowers--”

“Are for you. From me. Here, let me.” Ethan reaches into the bag to grab another wipe. He delicately takes Roman’s chin with one hand and wipes at his face with the other. “You did…” He stops as if catching himself from saying something brash, before finishing. “Great. Really. No messing around. I enjoyed every second of the show.”

Roman pulls away at that, face scrunching in slight disgust. “Now I _know_ you’re lying. Look, if you’re just here to make me feel bad, save it and leave. I’ve already got enough on my mind tonight.”

Ethan sighs, dropping the wipe on the table. “I’m not. I’m not lying. I’m trying to--I just wanted to--Ugh.” He runs both hands through his hair. “Listen, Roman, I know I’m not the most genuine person in the world, but I’m being serious. I thought you’d revel in praise.”

Roman shakes his head and sniffles. He blinks a bunch in an attempt to keep any incoming tears at bay, but it only achieves the opposite. “I worked hard this week. I forced myself to keep it together all week. We all did. Only for me to screw up the last show. I don’t deserve any praise.”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Ethan rests his arms on the top of the backrest of the chair he’s in, settling his chin on top of them. “Yes, I remember, you did that thing. That terrible thing. At that one point in the show. That thing. Awful, just awful. I almost walked out when it happened, really. Damn near ruined the whole show for me. I just hated it. That thing you did. That’s why I came to look for you with flowers and compliments at the ready, actually.” His soft smile at this point has found its way back to its usual smirk, but this time it makes Roman laugh ever so slightly.

“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” he asks Ethan. The other shrugs, shaking his head. Roman’s eyes cast down and he frowns again. “Well, I can understand why _you_ wouldn’t have noticed. But I’m certain people did, and I can’t forgive myself for doing that to my castmates. It’s the last production, ever, for many of us seniors, including myself. And I fucked it up.”

“Oh, please,” Ethan breathes, reaching to wipe a tear with his thumb from Roman’s cheek. “No one gives a shit, I promise. And if they do, well, screw them. You clearly worked your ass off this week. You obviously cared about the show and everyone who was a part of it. And on top of all of that, you gave everyone out there an amazing show, fuck-ups be damned. You’ll have other shows to redeem yourself in beyond high school. Where’s that obnoxious grandeur and determination you never seem to run out of?”

Roman lets out a long, quivering breath. “I’m just...tired, I suppose. It’s been...a long week. I just can’t believe I went through all of that only to fall short of a perfect final show.” At this point, keeping himself from breaking down is impossible. Tears cloud his vision as he becomes a hiccuping, wheezing, sniffling mess in front of the last person he’d want to see him this way. And yet, somehow, that’s the least of his worries.

There’s a loud sigh and the sound of a chair being pushed aside, and Roman is convinced Ethan’s finally decided to leave--until two arms wrap around his shaky form. The smell of cheap cologne cuts through the hairspray and leftover Subway sandwich-smell lingering in the dressing room. Ethan’s arms squeeze him in a way that’s strong and firm, yet comforting. He rubs Roman’s back and mumbles something Roman is too startled to understand. But he melts into the embrace, eventually returning the hug with some reluctance as he quiets his crying. They stay there for a momentary infinity, silent and snug and still like nothing around them exists.

Eventually, Ethan pulls away and brushes a few stray brunette curls from Roman’s face. “I’m sure you’re just _dying_ to get to that party with your face looking like a crime scene.” He grins. “How about we clean you up a bit more and get some five-star gourmet food at that shitty diner down the road instead? Help you take your mind off that _totally_ unforgivable screw-up you made tonight.” He takes a step back, scoops up the roses from the table, and holds out a hand for Roman to take.

Roman looks at the roses, then at Ethan’s hand, then at Ethan. He smiles. “I’d love to, Ethan.”


End file.
